In Australia, especially Queensland, we’re forever exposed to unrelenting, scorching bright sunlight. It’s a relief to be overseas in the softer light. One relaxes the eyes, the squinting and the face generally gets to rest. One becomes accustomed to seeing rather than always glaring to see through the mandatory sunglasses. Well, that is until you step out of the airplane and are again confronted with the blinding pain of it all. Not to mention the insects. That is except for Tasmania.
We got to look at things with our own eyes without squinting: the shimmering colours of moss, rusty rocks, bright fluro pink berries, naturally occurring bonsai, the unique fairytale forests and landscape in general. That is everything except for Cradle Mountain itself. Covered by mist and unfamiliar with the landscape, we wondered, where is Cradle Mountain? Tasmania, including Cradle Mountain in particular, is renowned for rapid variations in the weather. So, we succumbed to the idea that we’d been a bit unlucky, that the park was living up to it’s reputation and that we, as it turned out were coping with the cold and were having a pleasant time regardless. Reaching about the last quarter of the walk, we were periodically turning around, gradually the mist lifted and there it was. Almost.